Summer laughs in crested trees,
While they burst with red in the sandy grass.
The sky asks,
"Why will I never end?"
And clouds stretch their fingers to the growing sun,
Pulling at its rays of warmth,
Glistening in the waiting heat,
While wings ride the breeze
That brushes back waves in time.
My fingers crumble up the grass,
And I sigh on a fading note.
I answered to the endless blue
When I closed my eyes.